Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself. —Rumi
Each year I give myself a word theme and I let it lead me on a journey, and for me the new year begins in the fall. Some years I’ve been specifically focused. But this time I didn’t want to establish any goals for myself for other than to let myself dream more and lean into the moment and be open to what comes. Of course I would continue to meet my work, home and family responsibilities. Though I wanted to let go of any particular end goal and stay open, willing to flow with the unexpected that arrives, and to step out of my comfort zone and be open to possibilities.
Before I had a chance to select my word, my life began to erupt with more multiple changes and I could feel the pattern that began last year continue, holding strong. Usually I resist any changes I haven’t ordered. But this time I had no interest in answering from a place of fear or control. I was in sync with the energy and leaned into the changes taking place.
Some of the most important things I had planned for were not unfolding as I had expected or wanted. Our income decreased. Hard earned money saved, was spent on necessary life expenses. I’ve been living frugally for the past few years, saving instead of spending, and it made me grumpy to meet expenses with money slated for future hopes and dreams. My life’s circumstances left me feeling as if I were stuck in place and what I wanted most was to move forward. It was another year of drought, tenacious ants. Two fires, devastating mudslides. Health issues surfaced, his and mine. The dog got sick, vet bills. My mother and my father’s health took bad turns. Yet another close friend died and crossed over to the other side.
Still, all year the good things out numbered the bad. My grandson learned to ride a bike and my granddaughter learned to walk and talk and now she is running. The dog’s health improved. Our health is stable. I had my lucky money saved so we could pay the bills. I broke old bad habits and developed new behaviors that better serve me. I made significant writing and publishing gains. Tending The Fire: Native Voices and Portraits was published by University of New Mexico Press and I’m feeling mighty lucky to be one of the authors featured. The honor extended to me being invited to do a reading from the book at The Autry Museum in Los Angeles. I made good progress on other writing projects, including a second memoir.
What I gained in the 1990s when my son lived with and died from a brain tumor, is the confidence to know I will be able to deal when terrible things happen and that strength comes from sources unimaginable and that it is much easier for me to give than to receive. Things are not terrible now, only days filled with hard spots and soft spots.
Craving a sabbatical, yet finding it necessary to stay rooted and meet ongoing obligations I began finding ways to weave study-time and time-out into my days and nights and to see my community with new eyes. I began Israeli folk dancing and made new friendships. I completed a Unitarian Universalist sermon-writing workshop and spent five months within a liberal progressive worship ministry team and made more new friends. I continued my daily long early morning walks with my dog, and wrote daily long hand letters to myself in my journal. I read all of the unread books on my shelves and stayed true to my goal of growing increasingly more minimal by purchasing less.
I believe volunteerism is the backbone of community and the rent we pay for the space we take up on this good earth. As a lifelong volunteer within my communities I came to understand that I’m no longer a distance runner. Now my strength is sprinting. Giving my all to complete a section of the work needing to be done and then passing the baton and giving myself a pause, a hiatus before accepting the next volunteer assignment.
At the end of each workday, instead of trying to get more and more done, I sat outside in the twilight watching the sky and the light change from day to night. The wind came up and blew my hair in my eyes. With a blanket pulled over my bare arms I let the chill air embrace me. In the light of the stars and the moon penetrating the night, I began addressing my fears and one after the other I tackled them.
Each phase of the moon, the crescent of first quarter, to the almost full three-quarter moon called me and I saw how each phase lights up the earth in a different way, her effect on the waters, and my emotions, and the way she lights up the shadow side of life. In my Native culture the moons do not follow today’s 12-month calendar. Instead there are 13 moons and they follow the seasons. September brought a full moon two days after the equinox, relating to change, the turn from autumn to winter. Traveling the medicine wheel I found myself under the influence of the thirteenth moon and the way she heralds change, brings times of transition and new opportunity.
In the daylight dragonflies came and hovered over the pond.
I was invited to deliver the sermon/inspirational talk I wrote (and I accepted) using storytelling to share the pathways I have cultivated to bring pockets of calm, tranquility and spiritual renewal in a chaotic world. Video.
It was a year filled with hugs, tears, and laughter. I came to understand that I’m completing the circle. And yet I’m beginning, because endings are also beginnings.
